Delicate Sensation
by beautiful memories
Summary: She was raped by a man - a man whom she can't forget. His dark, fiery blue eyes; the paper pale skin; azure colored hair; even the shape of his lips. She hated him so much. But, why is it that she fell in love with the man she absolutely despises? AMUTO. discontinued until further notice.
1. Prolouge: Silent Pain

Okay, well, hi.

I just randomly thought of this last night so I'm writing it down. I might delete it; it's the first time I'm writing something like this. It's a bit of a mature subject, but I'm keeping it in between the borders of PG-13.

But, like I said, I might delete it.

Woopdedo. Have fun reading.

**Also, CHECK THIS OUT NAO: **http:/games(dot)nakayosi-net(dot)com/image/hayayomi/contents/201009/09syugo/page01(dot)html

I wanna fangirl about it with someone.

*Hint hint: The link is about Encore! Chapter four; AMUTO-ness ;D

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**Everything is © to their respected owners.**

_Monster  
How should I feel?  
Creatures lie here  
Looking through the window …_

**Prologue: Silent Pain**

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She woke to the same of sweat, urine, and mold. She jolted upright, and scanned her surroundings. She was in a truck, she realized with surprised, surrounded with steel walls and a dirty floor, as if something raw had sat here for days.

"Hey," Something cold breathed down her neck—no, not a _thing, _a _person._

The next thing she knew, her back was on the floor, and a man hovered above her. She gasped in surprise as she looked at him; he had the darkest blue-colored hair she had ever seen. His skin was almost paper-pale, and his eyes—

Oh, his eyes.

She stared at them, hypnotized, and it seemed like she was staring at the ocean filled with nothingness—there was no emotion, nothing in his intense gaze as he stared at her. Her cheeks flushed. Barely audible, she whispered, "W-w-who are you?"

He didn't answer; instead, he closed his eyes, and leaned closer that he was grazing his lips against hers.

She opened her mouth to speak—

—and felt her lips against his.

She felt herself tense, and she whispered again, more hoarsely, "Who are you?"

He didn't say anything yet again, but pressed his lips firmly against hers, so that he was kissing her.

His hand rested on her back, and he pulled her up into a sitting position. Moving his hand so that it rested on the back of her neck, he dipped her head, deepening the kiss into a passionate one.

She heard him moan in pleasure, the first real sound she heard from him besides 'Hey.'

And, then, suddenly, she broke off.

Breathing heavily, she climbed out of his arms and backed up against the wall. His eyes were open now, a predatory look in his dark eyes.

Swallowing the lump in her throat, she whispered, "Who are you? What do you want?" Her voice cracked. "Where am I?"

The male walked forward, trapping the girl against the wall and himself. He leaned forward, his cold breath blowing across her face. His lips were on the bridge of her nose. "Who am I?" he mocked, in a rich, delicious, deep voice that vibrated in the inside of his throat. "I'm yours." She felt him grin against her eye and she shivered.

"L-l-let go of me," she whimpered, struggling in his arms and avoiding his eyes. "I don't know you. Get away from me." Her voice was hoarse.

His expression was fierce as he gripped her bare thighs under her school skirt. She whimpered as his hand traveled up and down. She screamed as his hands gripped her petite waist.

That night, Hinamori Amu was raped.

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Short? Yes, I know. Like I said, I wrote this last night, when I was bored. And, also, like I said, the idea is different than most of my stories; and a bit mature. So, if no one likes it, I might delete it. This is just the prologue. The idea just came up in my head last night, and I had the urge to write it. So, tell me if I should continue this into a story or not.

**Review?**

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	2. Chapter One: Passionate Burns

Um, so, hi.

I've decided to continued this, and so I've developed the plot line. So, don't worry, story's all planned out. I'm just a bit worried if you'll still read it. xD

All comments have been taken into consideration. Criticism too.

I also want to let you know:

_**I WILL NOT MAKE IKUTO A WHORE.**_

He rapes her in the prologue for a desperate reason. A reason you'll find out later in the story.

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**Chapter One: Passionate Burns**

"_May your light  
(waiting for a sign)  
Take my life  
(crying to the sky)  
Set my heart  
(for love to come around)  
On fire . . ."_

The soft lighting from the open windows cast shadows across his old, mature face. His face was set in a deep scowl, his eyes never wavering or letting any emotion seep through—they were as emotionless as rock was, whether in rain or snow, the physical appearance was the same. "Tsukiyomi Ikuto," he said in an amused voice, calculating and fastidious. "son of the legendary violinist," he paused, then, and smirked at the boy's eyes that were avoiding to look at him. "Did you enjoy your mission?"

There was a burst of emotion from his eyes, then, a star burst of pain behind the boy's dark blue eyes. It had gone as quick as it come, but the old man didn't miss it. He grinned ear to ear.

The boy spat before he answered, "No, Father."

"Ahh," his father mused. "that's too bad, then."

The boy—who wasn't a boy, really; he was only about twenty-four or so and that wasn't so young—he didn't deserve to be called a boy; though, a man. Yes, a man. The man was sitting down across from his father in the comfortable arm chair with his white violin case strung casually across his angular shoulder. Tsukiyomi Ikuto stared at his father, at his deep frown and emotionless eyes that were so much like his own regarding the way they were structured, even though Kazuomi was only his stepfather.

"May I leave?" he suddenly asked. Comparing features with his _step_father, whether he was related to him or not, always made him sick.

"Yes," His father answered, not coldly, but cool and crisply, like the falling leaves at the season of autumn. Ikuto flinched at how it sounded so much like him, but walked out the office nonetheless.

Before walking out the door, however, he turned to his father that was staring after him and said, "I hope you know that I hate you, old man."

His father just smiled, a trace of a smile that had a hint of something evil behind it and said, "I know."

**:.:**

It had been six years.

Six torturous years of hiding from the world.

Hinamori Amu, now at the age of twenty-two, has never associated herself with men. The only exceptions were her two best friends, who she could trust with her life—Fujisaki Nagihiko and Souma Kuukai. They were the only two men that she felt comfortable being touched by, even though they didn't do it much.

And they were the only men she told about her losing her virginity.

They were together right now, Kuukai on her right, Nagihiko somewhere else at the hotel. They were like her body guards—even though she thought the idea was horrendous and selfish, but Kuukai and Nagihiko joked about it, and eventually, she laughed about it too. Amu normally never came out of her small, comfortable apartment, but today was her best friend's, Mashiro Rima's birthday. She couldn't missed it—and if she had, Rima would've surely came to track her down to kill her.

There were a lot of people at this party; mostly men—men she didn't know. Hence, the reason why her friends were guarding her. Amu was dressed in nothing at all too revealing (she had stopped trying to be "attractive" when she had lost her virginity)—a comfortable, stretchy gray sweater made of the cotton material and faded blue jeans with some of her old sneakers. Her hair was tied up in a sloppy ponytail, with pink bangs hovering over her face. She wore no make-up, none at all, but she was still very attractive—she couldn't help it—with her small, straight nose, golden-colored orbs that reminded everyone of honey, and her small, petite frame.

Amu smiled and nodded with many people—mostly women, but eventually men and normally that was only when Nagi and Kuukai were with her. One of them would occasionally bring up the "I'm her boyfriend," trick which usually brought the man who was talking to her cower in the corner.

Amu rested her small head on Kuukai's shoulder. Luckily, he wasn't so much taller than her as others were, so it was no problem to lay her head on his broad shoulder.

She sighed. "This is so tiring," she complained. "I want to go home."

Kuukai chuckled. "Wanna crash at my place tonight?"

Kuukai lived about two doors down from her apartment, so it didn't really matter who crashed in at whose place since they were practically the same.

"Sure," Amu yawned, and added, almost as an afterthought, "I need some pajamas. Do you have some at your place?"

"Yeah, I think so. If not, I'll just give you some."

She nodded, her eyes suddenly staring at Rima. She was short, like her, but short_er._ And also petite. Her long blond hair fell all the way to her knees and her eyes were big and round, also honey-golden. The aura around her was menacing most of the time, except with her or Nagi. And the occasional Kuukai.

Amu felt a hand on her shoulder, breaking her out of her reverie. She stiffened visibly and turned to see who it was. Seeing it was Nagi, her posture relaxed considerably. "Oh, Nagi," she breathed. "I got worried there for a second."

Nagi was one of her "best friends," who she knew was gentle at heart and would never be capable of hurting her. His long, purple hair was usually let loose, and it hung all the way down to about Rima's length, but he was taller. His eyes, a dark gold, was like a lion's fur, though he was nothing at all like a lion; though, quite the opposite. He was as graceful as a bird soaring through the sky.

"Sorry for frightening you," he said, his cheeks flushing red. "but I was about to ask you if you were doing all right."

_So much like you, Nagi, _she thought admiringly, _to be worried about me._

She smiled, then, a small, sweet smile full of gratitude. "I'm fine, Nagi," she said. "but tired. In a minute or so, I'm going home with Kuukai."

There was something behind his eyes, then—disappointment? But, all he said was, "Mmm, I see."

Amu stared awkwardly up at her best friend, and felt a fringe of emotion inside her—she suddenly noticed him; the way his lashes curved over his cheekbones, the laugh lines across his eyes that made him look so much kinder, and even younger. His phone buzzed, and he fished it out of his pocket, staring at the text message. Sighing, he placed it back into his breast pocket and raked a hand through his hair. "Rima needs me."

Amu giggled. "Are you her servant, or something?"

He squinted his eyes, calculating. "I guess."

Kuukai suddenly popped up, then, surprising her by looping his arm around her shoulders, turning her around toward the direction of the exit. "See ya, Fujisaki," he called before they walked out of Rima's party, with Nagihiko staring after them.

**:.:**

The ride home was silent in the darkening sky. Kuukai, who was usually very hyper and peppy stared straight ahead, pretending to be absorbed in turning left. Finally, Amu sighed, "What's wrong, Kuukai?"

"Why do you assume," he said. "that there's something wrong?"

She stared at him, trying to read through his, for once, unreadable expression. "Kuukai," she said, exasperated. "seriously. You can't fool me."

He hit the breaks hard at the sudden appearance of a stop sign. He was silent for so long that she didn't think he'd answer. Then, he said, "I've been thinking lately," he paused as he stepped on the gas pedal, moving the car forward.

"About what?"

"What happened to you." His voice held no emotion, nothing at all; perhaps it was because he didn't _know _what his voice should sound like, or that he didn't want the wrong emotion in his tone.

Amu stiffened. It had been six years; six years since she had been raped, so why was her dear friend thinking about it now?

"Why now? It's been six years, Kuukai. The man who kidnapped me and raped me was smart—even the police couldn't figure out who he was or who he worked for. The case has already dropped for a while now, Kuukai. There's no point for any of this," Amu said.

Kuukai's feet slammed hard on the breaks as he turned his furious gaze on her. "If it isn't such a big deal, Amu," he spat. "then why are you still afraid to go to clubs? To parties? To go out _alone_, without anyone by your side?"

The way he said it was too harsh. It broke something inside of her, whether it was her heart or something else; it knocked the breath out of her nonetheless. "Kuukai," she whispered. "Stop. You're scaring me."

He didn't look at her when he continued driving, or when she said he had been scaring her. But, he did stop against the curb around an intersection that led to his apartment. Kuukai rested his head on the leather steering wheel, his breaths coming out deep and a bit breathless, if that was possible. "The truth is, Amu," His voice was hoarse, and he didn't look at her when he talked to her. "I've hated you these past few years. Not the hate that you think I might mean, but the hate that ... makes me burn with anger that I wasn't there to protect you, that I—" He stopped, and laughed soundlessly and without humor. "I know I don't have one bit of a chance to solve your case. Hell, even the professionals who actually have a _degree _in this thing didn't know how to solve it, but I'm just letting you know that I'm going to _try,_" This time, he lifted his head from the steering wheel and smiled confidently up at her shocked face. "I'm going to try for _you._"

She stared at him, horrified. "Kuukai," Amu whispered. "why has thi—"

"Okay!" He clapped his hands, smiling that goofy smile that she was so used to. The tense atmosphere forgotten, Kuukai grinned as he stared ahead. "I'm going to go pick up a surprise, so do you think you walk to my flat from here?"

Amu quietly turned her head and calculated. From the curb he parked from, it was about a three minute walk to the apartment building. To reach his door would take another two minutes. She looked at him. "Of course," she said, though her stomach had butterflies. "It's just right around the corner, isn't it?"

"That's my girl," Kuukai smiled, reaching his hand over and ruffled her pink hair.

Trying to ignore the fear gnawing in her heart, she let out an exasperated sigh before stepping out of the vehicle and closing the door.

"Amu," Kuukai called. "You didn't have any beer at the party, right? No whiskey or wine or anything that can make you ... sick?"

Now, that she remembered, Amu _did_ have a glass of wine—and she didn't handle any kind of alcohol well in her system, no matter how little of it she had it. Not wanting to make Kuukai worried, she shook her head. "Nah," she said. "And plus, you were always with me, and you didn't see me drinking anything, right?"

He nodded, and pulled the lever on D before speeding off, and the darkness swallowing him up.

Amu was alone now. Quickly glancing around herself, she walked around the curb and found her apartment complex in view. A sigh of relief escaped from her, and she picked up her pace. Amu felt her sight go dizzy, and she stopped against the wall for support. Why was the wine catching up with her now? She didn't have it recently ... or maybe she did, she didn't remember. A wave of nausea swarmed over her, clogging up her mind in a deep fog. Sweet gleamed around her forehead, though it was a chilly night.

She fell to the ground before losing consciousness, and the darkness overcame her.

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Soooooo sorry for a late update. ;_;

And it might be crappy, but at least it's long. Ish. Long-ish. That counts for something, doesn't it? :D /happy

I dunno. I don't feel like I did my best job, or maybe I did something to it. Sorry for leaving you with a cliffhanger~

Actually, I was going to do an even worse cliffhanger, but HA. That's just how nice I am. ;D

**Review, my darlings!**

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	3. Chapter Two: A Tickle of a Feather

Yaaaaay, I updated? After so many months, like omfg, right? o.o

so, anyway, since it's summer, i'll try to update as fast as I can, all right? Cuz this is ... well, this is apparently a popular story, considering from the reviews.

So ... chapter two is here! :D

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**Chapter Two: A Tickle of a Feather**

"_It was a tickle of a feather against my mind,  
A feather so light, I thought I had imagined it."_

When she opened her eyes, she could already tell from the smell of where she was that she was not in her flat, nor Kuukai's nor Nagihiko's. This smell was something else entirely—a mixture of soap and spice—and nothing at all that was _woman. _Yes, this smell was entirely man.

Her conscious screamed at her _Open your eyes! Go, get up and go away! _but she stayed under the warm, dark covers, her head resting on white, puffy pillows. Wherever she was, or whoever had rescued her, had obviously treated her with care, though she was a stranger.

When the sun filtered in through the small patches of skylight in the room, she opened her eyes, groaning. Her clothes were the same she had worn last night, which was a humongous relief. Her pink hair was ruffled, strands of frizz covering her hair like a rat's nest.

"You're awake."

The voice was a deep, melodic voice, and it had come from around the doorway. She closed the door to the fear in her heart, and lifting her golden orbs, she was met with dark cerulean eyes. The door in which she had closed now burst open—because those eyes were so _familiar. _She _knew _those eyes, and Amu could know from the way he held himself tightly, the darkening of his eyes so slightly, that he had noticed her fear. She knew the fear was shown in her eyes, because she felt completely exposed, like she was naked. Her hands were shaking so violently, but carefully, slowly, she closed them into fists.

"I won't hurt you," he said, so quietly. There was something in his voice—a determination as he stared at her with his lips pressed tightly together. "I promise I won't hurt you. You have no reason to fear me."

She had no idea what he had did, but there was something about him that she found out that he was telling the truth. That he really didn't have any desire to do anything for her. And with that, she took a deep breath, and suddenly, the fear was wiped out from inside her.

"Besides," he said, the corner of his mouth tipping up in a grin. "I have no attraction for A-cups."

Her face flustered, from the base of her neck to the tip of her forehead, and clumsily she gripped the edge of her blanket, consciously covering her chest, though it had been futile since he had just left room while calling out, "You can leave if you want. Though you should eat before you leave since I've already prepared breakfast."

A muttered "P-pervert" was all she had said, and though she knew he couldn't hear it, she said it anyway. Her feet touched the plush carpet of his apartment as she clambered off his bed, and then she froze.

_His _bed.

She didn't know him, but he had placed her on _his _bed. So, where had he slept? It was obvious from the layout that it was a one bedroom/one bath apartment, but that hadn't mean ... that he had ... slept on his ... couch?

Quickly padding out of his room, she walked down the narrow, short corridor and found herself in the living room. It was comfy and open—the living room was connected to the kitchen and dining room. There was a small, leather black sofa in the middle of the room, and two love seats on either side. The TV seemed proportional to each furniture piece; it could be seen from any angle of the seats. The curtains were the same color as her bed sheets—a dark navy. Casting her eyes away from his living room, she looked for him and found him in the kitchen. His back was turned to her, but he seemed to sense her arrival.

"Um ..." she said, causing him to turn around, his shoulder leaning against the wall beside the stove, and eyebrow cocked in curiosity. "Well, I have to brush my teeth and—" She paused. The subject of 'showering' seemed too intimate, and required stripping and clothing, and she didn't want his clothing, no matter how nice he seemed. "and ... s-soap."

She blushed. _Of course soap would be in the bathroom!_

He pressed his lips together, glancing over at the dining table. "Soap is in the bathroom. And as for brushing, I have a fresh toothbrush under the sink, in the drawer. You can use that."

She turned swiftly then, not wanting to see his amused expression, and sprinted into the bathroom, locking the door. She leaned over the sink, her breaths short. Reaching over and turning on the water, she splashed water onto her cheeks, wanting to calm her blush.

She hadn't felt any burst of fear with this man that she had with others, and it alarmed her. She shouldn't trust him, not at all. Because no matter what he was, he still a stranger. A stranger, that had the same traits as she remembered as her rapist. But, that couldn't be true, could it? She had been walking home from school then, and that had been in Kyoto. She had moved after that, back to her birthplace, Tokyo. He was not her rapist. He couldn't have been. And her memory had been foggy, but she remembered those eyes. Those eyes were not like his, no matter how coincidental it seemed to her that the color was the same. His eyes had carried dark, dark emotions; emotions that looked like lust and sadistic feelings. This man's eyes seemed fathomless; there was something about his eyes, and no matter what expression he wore, there was some kind of eternal sadness and self-hatred in his orbs. It made her want to know him, to console him and—

_I can't trust him. _

Decidedly, she raked a hand down her face, sighing heavily.

**:.:**

It had been when she sat down across from him in one of the chairs in the dining table that she remembered. And when she had, in that moment, her eyes had widened, and she quickly ran, knocking over the dining chair, back to his room, and rummaged through her bag till she found her metallic pink phone. Flipping it open, she read her screen, and her stomach had twisted in guilt. _You have missed 23 calls and have 19 new voicemails. _

She bit her lip as she quickly dialed the number so engraved into her memory.

He picked up on the first ring.

"_Hello? Hello, Amu, are you there? Are you all right?"_ She nearly choked as she heard his voice—it was full of such concern that it neared on the tone of franticness.

Realizing she would be waiting him too long, she breathed slowly, before quietly replying, "It's me, Kuukai. It's ... It's Amu."

"_Oh, crap ... Oh, shitty _hell_, Amu!"_ She flinched at his tone, but couldn't help the relief waft over her. Just by hearing his voice made her feel safe. _"Where the _hell_ have you been? I-I thought something bad happened and that it was all my fault ..."_ His voice had resorted to a whisper, and before he could torment himself further, she spoke up.

"I'm fine, really, I am, Kuukai," she said. She paused, then said, quietly, "I'm so sorry, Kuukai."

"_I would tell you it's fine, but it really isn't," _He paused, and she could hear his shorts breaths. _"Where are you? I'll come and get you. Give me the address and I'll come and get you." _

She told a deep breath, but before she could have replied, the phone was plucked out of her hand. She knew who it was, but before she could do or say anything, he had already replied. "She's with me."

The voice sent shivers down her spine. It was the same kind of voice, the flirty, sultry voice that had been directed at her just a few years ago. She looked away.

Amu could hear the buzz of his voice from the other end, as though he was yelling. She couldn't make out the words, however he must have been speaking from her behalf for the man's mouth was quirked up into a smirk.

After a while, he had closed her phone, tossing it to her from the entrance of his room. "I'll be walking you to his flat. Get ready." And with that, he left.

She took deep breaths. It was fine, it was totally and completely fine if he had managed to convince Kuukai to let him do this. But, then she thought, why? Why had he done it in the first place, walking her home?

After minutes of contemplation, she grabbed her bag and stepped out to find him in the living room, his frame beside the door. He was avoiding her eyes, she noticed.

"Are you ready?" he asked, turning around to grab a coat from the peg.

She nodded mutely. Without turning to see if she was following, he opened the door, nearly walking out, though a figure was already on the other side of the door, hand poised as if she were to knock.

She heard his voice then, the shock and horror clear in his voice. _"Utau?" _

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Urgh, I hate this chapter. It felt so filler-ish. But Utau being here and everything will all fit sooner or later.

Okay. Review ~

This thing was finally updated! :D


	4. Chapter Three: Books and Pages

**Chapter Three: ****Books and Pages**

_"Every book is a quotation; and every house is a quotation  
out of all forests and mines and stone quarries; and every man  
is quotation from all his ancestors."_

He found comfort in his books. Nothing made him feel at ease except for words, words scribbled in such a way to tell a story and to express emotions. They traveled him to a different world—worlds full of happy endings and friendship.

The blue-haired man sighed heavily as he sagged against his chair, his locks allowing themselves to cover his eyes as he closed his book.

A clatter of pots came from his kitchen. "Utau," he said. "What are you doing?"

"I'm cooking!" she replied cheerfully. "I'm making octopus noodle soup."

His sister never created anything tasty, even try all she might and follow the recipe exactly. There was always something off, he thought, but he never knew what.

He sighed, pondering, before picking up his coat from the arm of his chair as he stood up, sending his sister a bored glance. "I'll be back for dinner, Utau," he said. "Once I get home, we need to talk."

Her face paled as she called his name, but he had already shut the door and left.

**:.:**

Amu hung her head like a small child as Kuukai scolded her, his face red with anger. Kuukai, who was never angry, seemed as if his eyes were about to pop out of his head. Nagihiko, on the other hand, was breathing sighs of relief and gripping her hand tightly, as if he couldn't believe she was there.

"I'm glad you're well, Amu," he whispered as Kuukai stormed towards the kitchen for a drink of water. "Really, I am. I was so worried something happened to you that I—"

_That you what?_ she thought, but she was interrupted.

"And I'm glad that son of a bitch didn't meet me eye-to-eye otherwise I woulda' punched him." He bared his teeth, coming back with a glass of water gripped so tightly in his hands that his knuckles were white.

They were all in Kuukai's spacious living. She knew his apartment like she knew her own soul—she knew that under the TV stand he hid his game consoles and Xbox; she knew where he always hid his nachos and chocolates, up above the fridge, in the cabinets where she could not reach; she knew why he had implanted the shelf on his living room wall—to show off his soccer trophies.

"Even when he didn't do anything?" Amu squeaked. There was a nasty feeling curling up in her stomach, a feeling where she felt like defending the man but too scared to.

"Amu." His voice had softened just a teeny bit, but his eyes were hard. "You can't trust a man, especially when he's nice to you. He has ulterior motives."

She couldn't help but blush as she said, "Then what are your motives, Kuukai? And what about you, Nagihiko?"

They both seemed stunned for a second, so stunned that Kuukai had loosened his hand of his water, letting it splash across Amu's bare legs and her carpet and Nagihiko's grip on her hand was less firm. She saw both of them blush slightly.

She heard Kuukai curse quietly as he bent to pick up his cup.

"We're your friends, Amu," Nagihiko replied quietly. "Friends don't have ulterior motives."

She felt herself slump against the couch. _I made them worry again_, she thought. She didn't know why, but lately she had felt so stupid, like everything she said, everything she did was wrong. Strangely, her mind told her to snap back, to say, "A man and a woman are never just _friends_," but she resisted the urge and instead said, "I'm sorry. I won't do it again. I'll promise to be careful," she sighed, letting her hand out of Nagihiko's grip carefully. "I want to go home. I'm tired. I'll-I'll call you two later and then we can do something, maybe." She smiled as she stood, settling her feet into her flip-flops. "You know, like play Halo 3. It came out like months ago, but we've never played it."

They both nodded, but it was Nagihiko who seemed to walk forward, his face serious. "You must be careful from now, okay?"

Kuukai nodded. "Yeah, Hinamori. No joke."

Something warmed up inside of her, a swell of such happiness that she wanted to turn and scream through the wall. These boys, these two boys loved her so much that they were so worried to the point of near panicking, and she felt as if to kiss them both on the cheek. A blush rose on her face at the thought, and she bit her lip.

"Yeah," she whispered, leaving the room and closing the door firmly behind her.

She stood outside Kuukai's door for what seemed like fifteen minutes before she opened her eyes and walked down the hall. Shoving her key into her lock, she opened her door, the smell of lavender and clean soap wafting through her nostrils. Though it had only been about twelve hours since she had not stepped into her house, she felt as if she had been aching for her room, her couch, her TV as if she was someone who had left their home forever, only to find out that they were able to come back.

Shutting the door quickly behind her, she bolted the lock and slipped the chain in its place. There was her living room—a mix of soft cream and a light purple and her kitchen, small but sturdy and packed with food. She walked down the narrow hallway towards her left, peering into her bathroom and then at her library space and bedroom.

Amu's library was not really a library, but what she imagined it to be. She bought at least six large cabinets and lined them against the wall. Books were filled from top to bottom, not one space empty or disused; her desk, a dark mahogany, located in the center if the room with large windows behind it, was usually clean and clutter-free, but now had books stacked so high that she could not make out which part was the desk and which was the books. The only empty space seemed to be the small area in the middle of her desk, in front of her chair, but even that seemed to be cluttered with papers.

When had she become so cluttered? she thought. She was usually very neat and organized, but as she saw herself these past few weeks, her organization skills seemed to have weakened.

Moving down to her room, she wasn't surprised to find her bed not in the least bit made; it was still messy as she left it when she had left for Rima's party in the morning for planning. Her vanity mirror was also littered with things, however not with make-up (oh, she barely even had any) but books. Her bedroom also seemed to be scattered with books—books were stacked on her mahogany night stands; on her pale purple bed sheets; on her floor, and even in her closet, lined against the wall.

The sight brought a smile to her lips. Being without surrounded by books seemed to have made her nearly ill. There was, as some had commented, a smell in her home that seemed to be different than other homes. It was like dust and sunlight, ancientness and eternity.

She knew exactly what they meant.

Her stomach rumbled suddenly, and she nearly laughed. She hadn't eaten since last night and it was late evening now. Just as she prepared herself to cook food, her doorbell rang.

"Who is it?" she called out.

A deep, throaty voice had replied, but she hadn't heard what he'd said. It was almost like a rumble, just a jumble of words.

But she knew the voice.

She glanced down at herself, relaxing when she seemed to be in good, modest clothing. Her hair had fallen around her, surrounding her like a halo.

It was strange and frightening.

She _wanted_ to open the door to him. It was such a weird feeling she wasn't used to. She liked him, she thought, as she liked Saya when she had been in college. Her mind screamed at her to be quiet and to move back, but she felt her feet propel her forward. Amu stopped right at the door.

"I can't open the door," she whispered, almost to herself.

He heard it. "Why?" he replied, his voice softer.

Her conversation from Kuukai and Nagihiko replayed though her mind. Being bold, she replied, "I don't trust you."

He sucked in his breath. A part of him called himself stupid—Why had he come here in the first place? Why did he bother, when he knew he shouldn't associate himself with her?—and yet, he was here. He was worried about her well-being; he wanted to see how she lived, if she was all right and if she had forgotten. Perhaps if he found her happy, he could try to move on and forget also.

He _needed_ to see her. He had to.

"I won't hurt you."

That was it. He said it. If she didn't open the door now, she never would. And he would never have his peace.

Minutes ticked by, and he couldn't help the clenching of his heart. Deep inside, he thought she really would open the door, but she didn't. He turned, his hands shaking, before he felt the swift air push against his back. He inhaled, the scents of lavender and soap wafting through his nose.

"You can come in," came her soft voice from behind his back. "but only if you can keep your distance."

He swirled around, then, looking at her, and his eyes widened slightly. Behind her, books were piled high over everything—her couch, her TV, even on her kitchen bar. And now, as he realized, there had been another smell. It was the smell of books, of dust and words wafting through his nose. A smell he knew so well.

Out of the corner of his eyes, he saw Amu move aside, gesturing him to walk in. His eyes shifted to hers, but she was watching him keenly, despite the blush on her cheeks.

He walked slowly, having no intention of doing anything to her. He saw her move away quickly as he strode in her living room, shutting the door behind him. Ikuto noticed vaguely that she hadn't locked the door, but his eyes were still roaming around her house. Everywhere he looked—books, books, books. Pages were spilled, bookmarks littered here and there. Other than the overflowing number of pages, her house was clean and neat.

Not helping himself he asked, "You're a book reader?"

She blushed, lowering her eyes and yet moving even farther away from him. "Yeah." She gestured to her books and flushed even darker. "I'm sorry about the mess. Listen … I-I'm not used to this, but I just wanted to thank you for … saving me."

His eyes slid over hers, his voice distant. "It's nothing," he said. She was doing surprisingly well for someone who had lost her parents just six years ago. There was nothing of her family, no pictures, and no mementos in her living room.

Noticing the distant look in his eyes, she didn't know what to say. He was so aloof, and she was about to say something but he had already spoken. "I'm sorry."

"What are you sorry for?" she asked. "You didn't do anything."

He turned his gaze to hers, burning into hers furiously. "You don't know that," he said, suppressing the urge to glare at her. "You don't know anything I've done."

She seemed to read through him, as if the block he'd set was never there at all. Her face fell with sadness. "I'm sorry," she whispered. "I didn't mean—"

Wanting to change the subject, he abruptly said, "Let me see your library."

Amu's eyes suddenly changed, her eyes widening in surprise. "How do you know I have one?"

"You have to put these books somewhere," he said, smiling a little. "I can just tell."

Her breath hitched. There was something about him that made her want to cuddle him, to hold him close to her, to comfort him. Who _was_ he? He set off an aura that made her think that he knew everything about her, even the little things. It didn't scare her—actually it did quite the opposite. It made her feel _protected._

And did she mention that he was so _breathtaking _when he smiled?

She blushed furiously, and pointed down the hall, towards her left. "Last door on the right."

Either he didn't realize her blush, or he chose to ignore it. Either way, she mentally thanked whoever created the universe that he didn't comment.

She followed him shortly, her arms crossed over chest as he paused right at the door, hand on the knob. "May I go in?"

She started to smile a bit, her composure falling. "Only if you tell me your name."

His eyes glinted, and there seemed to be a sparkle of admiration in his eyes before it was quickly replaced by mischievousness. He strode towards her, his hands in his pockets. She could feel herself tense, but there was nothing in her heart that told her to run away. She stood her ground, her smile suddenly wiped away as his face leaned close to hers. Close enough that she could feel the minty freshness of his mouth.

Her mind was clogged with the scent of him, his cold breath, his cologne, the smell of his locks. Her eyes drooped suddenly, and she thought she saw him widen his eyes. But when she stepped out of her drunkenness, she found him staring at her amusingly, a smirk taunting her.

"Why," he whispered, his eyes shining. "My name is Tsukiyomi Ikuto."

* * *

a/n: OMG I UPDATED. Actually, I don't think anyone has been viewing fanfiction SC! Forums. Perhaps because it's been so long since the show ended … But, I'll still like to finish my stories. (: If you reviewers are still out there and alive, at least.

**Quotation from Ralph Waldo Emerson.**


	5. Chapter Four: Chocolate Almond Pastries

**Chapter Four: Chocolate-Almond Pastries**

"_Criminals should be punished, not fed pastries."  
_—Lemony Snicket

When he had been young, his mother always told him stories about his father—he was a musician, bringing smiles to all faces when he played his violin. People looked up to him, friends asked for his advice, and he gave it to them—kindly and without impatience. But, when his mother explained to him why he disappeared, why he left his wife and him and his sister all alone, she merely replied vaguely, "To help us." Still, the sadness persisted in her eyes, and though Ikuto never told anyone, he vowed to himself and to his family that he would bring happiness into his mother and sister's lives once again. He wouldn't let them live like they had for the past few years—he would change them.

But, the feeling almost disappeared when her mother married Kazuomi. He had never even heard of him before their marriage, and when he looked at her, seeing the smile on her face, her eyes glowing with happiness, he almost shouted with rage at his mother.

She had found someone else to love.

And then came the time when he figured out Kazuomi was not what anyone thought him to be—the business-like, professional, formal and polite man; actually, he proved himself to be quite the opposite. So, when he threatened Ikuto that he would kill his sister and his mother – and he had no doubt that he would – he had no choice but to follow through with the man's disgusting plan just to scare the families into paying their debt. It was sick.

_He_ was sick.

Nightmares rolled through his mind, weeks and days after that—for nearly a month. He had heard that time eased pain but it did the opposite for him—it practically opened the wound again, day after day, causing him to bleed profusely.

So when he found her in the ground he knew that he couldn't leave her alone. He owned it to her that much that he would have to help her as much as he could.

"Right," Utau interrupted, bringing his agonizing thoughts into a halt. "Mother's well, but … she hasn't been thinking good thoughts lately. She's gotten more depressing."

Ikuto feigned indifference. Whatever it was that was making his mother so depressed, he would have to go to Kazuomi. "Has she?" he muttered, his chopsticks swirling in Utau's octopus soup. No matter how much he was hungry, he couldn't bring himself to eat the blobbering mess. And couldn't _not _help his thoughts as they drifted towards the pink-head.

Utau nodded, suddenly grim as she set down her chopsticks. "I have to help," she said. "I can't just go out and live my dream while you and mother are suffering. I have to do_ something_." She bit her lip, her eyes swarming with concern. "I'll go to Kazuomi with you."

Ikuto's response was immediate: "No," he snapped, his eyes flickering to hers. He made sure that his eyes reflected hard, cold feelings. "I don't need your help, Utau. I have an idea, and I don't need you getting in my way."

Actually, he had no idea at all, but he would do anything to not have his family involved.

She frowned, obviously hurt by his words. "Are you sure?" she asked slowly. She knew better than to beg for his approval; changing Ikuto's opinion was like trying to move a boulder. Still, she couldn't help the weighing down of her heart, as if he didn't trust her, as if he couldn't depend on her. Nonetheless, she made no move and instead stared down at her stupid mess of a soup. She knew he was being mean for her own benefit, but it felt too real, his voice too sharp and too cold that she felt something throb in her chest. _Live your dream, _he had said. _Leave the rest to me. _

But now she didn't feel like living her dream.

Abruptly, she stood, and stalked towards the door to grab her pea coat from its peg, her eyes glistening with unshed tears. She blinked rapidly, and forced her mind to stay blank. _I am Hoshina Utau, _she thought, _free like a butterfly, taunt like a leopard. Utau doesn't cry. _

And so, she didn't.

**:.:**

Days passed after Amu's surprising meeting with the stranger named Tsukiyomi Ikuto, and yet she couldn't stop thinking about him—well, _her _and _him._ She had never allowed a stranger into her house (or any where near her, for that matter) but there was a calmness that enveloped around her when he was next to her, a calmness she only felt with Kuukai and Nagihiko. Perhaps, if everything worked out well, he could be her friend.

As soon as the thought entered her brain, she thought of it as preposterous. _Ikuto_ as a _friend?_ If anything less, he shouldn't have been classified in that category. He was someone aloof, and she needed a label that could describe his aloofness. 'Friends' seemed so stereotypical and 'lover'—

She froze.

Why in the world was she even _thinking _of him as a _lover? _How had that thought ever entered her brain in the first place?

"You're blushing," replied her friend from beside her, and Amu instinctively patted her cheeks, still cold from the frigid wind outside. Her hands felt like fire against her skin.

"A-am not," she stuttered defiantly, though it was a lost cause—she knew she was and she knew Rima did, too. "I was just thinking about starting my job next week."

Ever since Amu had lost her parents, her life seemed to fall apart bit by bit—she lost her Cool 'n Spicy attitude in school which she was so known for; her brightness seemed to fade; and losing a job wasn't on the plan. She had been living on Kuukai's and Nagihiko's and Rima's extra savings for so long—though only two years—that she was determined to repay them. She would never tell them, of course; they'd deny the money, but she would do something. Leave it in their flat, place it in the way of their foot paths, make their manager hand them the money as "presents" ….

Rima raised a skeptical eyebrow, sipping her coffee with sophisticated delicacy. Amu instantly felt jealous. "You were blushing about your job? Uh-huh. Nice try. You always were a terrible liar, Amu."

Amu blushed darker, the color filling her cheeks. How could she tell her about the man in her flat days ago? She kept it a secret; only between her and him, and that was exactly how she wanted it. Rima, Nagihiko, and Kuukai felt like intruders …. Like they were looking at her naked body. Dismissing the thought with dread, she laughed quietly as her fingers wrapped around her warming cup. "Oh, Rima," she sighed, glancing at her hands for a moment. "There's nothing going on. I'm just a little giddy, that's all."

Amu's gaze flitted around the shop, drinking in all its components. In Tokyo, bakeries surrounded the whole city, selling from Western desserts all the way to Malaysian ones and she couldn't help but smile at the thought. Starting in two days, she would be working in this bakery, _Le Boulanger Dominique Saibron_ located in the Akasaka district. It was only a short walk from the station, and it made her gain a sense of confidence—she didn't need her friends anymore. She wasn't going to be a coward. After hiding behind a shell of her friends for six years, she was tired. This wasn't life—life was _waiting _for her and all she did was hide.

Rima followed her gaze and slightly frowned. "It's a nice place," she said, slowly. "A little small, don't you think? They should buy more space. Oh, and _expensive!_ These teas were totally worth less than buying for. And no freakin' _sitting _area! Can you believe it? To _stand _and have to drink coffee?"

Amu fluttered a smile. Her friend was just too funny. "It's all right. Cozy and lovable. But, their bread is delicious. I'll treat you to some next time," Amu said.

"Employee discount?" Rima's eyelids fluttered.

"Maybe. I hope so."

Rima smiled tentatively as her lips touched the rim of her cup. It had been days since she saw Amu feeling this happy. It felt like days, but Rima knew it was more like years ago—six, to be exact. She had noticed the change in Amu almost immediately; Amu had skipped school for nearly two weeks, and she wasn't at her house. What was worse, it seemed like Kuukai and _Nagihiko _knew as if what was going on. And when she asked Nagi, expecting him to tell her—because she was his friend, too, right?—he replied coolly, almost sadly: "There's nothing to worry about."

Like hell that was true.

And even after that, as Amu had slowly repaired herself, it was still a secret kept from her. Rima never brought it up again, because of her pride, but mostly because of the deadness and _fear _in Amu's eyes. Rima wasn't cruel, but she wasn't forgiving, either—whatever they were hiding felt like she was being stabbed by thousands of shards of glass, over and over until the memory became hidden in the deep subconscious of her mind. As much as she hate to admit it, Amu keeping a secret from her hurt more than she liked it to.

And then Amu spoke, and Rima plastered on a smile that hoped looked convincing enough.

If Amu was ready to tell her, she would. She would just have to wait.

"Rima? You listening? I just ordered chocolate-almond pastries."

**:.:**

Amu glanced inside her bag—two pastries left. One was hers and the other … well, she actually had no idea why in the world she had ordered six pastries. She ordered herself, Rima, Nagihiko one, and knowing Kuukai, ordered two for him. All but hers was left, and the other, though she didn't know if she could eat two. After devouring nearly a cup full of coffee, her stomach was not growling anymore, and though Kuukai still begged for the other, she couldn't bring herself to give it to him. He already ate two—and the pastries were large, almost three inches in diameter—and giving him his third one just made her feel … well, she didn't know.

Kuukai and Nagihiko both offered to take her home, but she quietly refused. Her mind replayed Kuukai's words inside her head: _"If it isn't such a big deal Amu," _he spat. _"then why are you still afraid to go to clubs? To parties? To go _alone, _without anyone by your side?"_

It made her see herself for who she really was—dependent, weak, and cowardly. She was determined to change that now. Though she could feel the butterflies in her stomach, she ignored them—and besides, tucked into the deep pocket of her jacket was her pepper spray. She would be fine. So perhaps Amu was a bit incompetent, but there should have been a few ways for her to do _something. _She couldn't have been that weak.

The sun was slowly sinking in the distance, the sky ablaze with colors of red, pink, orange, and a strong yellow. She stopped for a second and closed her eyes, relishing the time of day that was her favorite. It was solitary. It was amazing.

It was magnificent.

And then, when she opened then, she realized the colors had dulled, leaving the sky into a flimsy shade of purples, greys, and blues. Had she really been standing there for so long? She was about to step forward to quickly return home, but a cry from behind her stopped her cold.

It was a small cry, not a scream nor a shout, but closer to a whimper, as if the person was in pain. Amu clutched the strap of her messenger bag, not at all wanting to go back towards the sound that sounded as if it were coming from an alleyway. Alleyways haunted her, and of course, this could be a trap for her.

But what if it wasn't?

Before contemplating, she felt her feet propel her backward, the way she came. The sky was dimming and darkening extremely fast, she thought, which made her all the more quiver in fear. The more she moved closer, the more she regretted her decision. _It's not too late, _her mind whispered, _You can go back. Turn around and never return._ But, what would that prove? That she was a coward, surely. And she didn't want to be.

Moving her feet faster, she rounded the corner into the alleyway. And stopped dead.

There, slumped against the concrete wall was _Ikuto,_ and as she moved closer she could see the cuts and bruises on his face—one beside his lip, above his eye, and another just below his chin. He groaned in pain, and Amu felt her relief swarm around her in an aura. As she rummaged through her bag for a napkin, she heard his raspy voice echo through the darkness: "Oh," he said, and as she looked up she saw his eyes squinting as if he couldn't quite see her. "It's you."

Her heart beat frantically in her chest as she neared him, and she could feel a blush filling her cheek. For once, she was thankful to the darkness. She knelt beside him, far enough so he couldn't reach but enough so that she could wipe away the blood from his face. The cut above his eye was bleeding profusely, and though she knew it was only just a simple cut, the blood dripped down from the side of his cheek to the edge of his chin. She vaguely remembered her high school health teacher saying something about how there was so much blood gathered around the skull that even a simple cut looked like it was hit with a bullet. She would need more than one napkin. As she tried to reach over and wipe away the blood, he turned his face away, towards the other side.

"Go away." His voice was breathless, and Amu's thoughts frantically raced around her mind: _He's about to faint, he's about to faint, he's about to faint! _"I don't need you."

"Stop talking," she muttered. "You're bleeding so much and you're talking? What did you do anyway? What are you, a gangster? Let me just clean you up and I'll be going. Oh, and here—" She reached behind her, grabbing the bag from the bakery. "Eat this. It's chocolate-almond pastries."

His eyes widened when he stared at the outstretched bag in front of him. Was she offering him her _food?_ How would she have known he was starving? Or maybe she didn't. And how in the world was _chocolate _being offered to him? If this was a coincidence, he would gladly believe it. He couldn't lose himself to _hoping. _

"No," he said, and he looked away from her again. "I don't want pastries."

He heard her growl in frustration, and then saw her get up. There was something inside him then, that told him to stop her from leaving, but he pushed the feeling aside and glanced up at her almost lethargically. "I don't get you," she snapped, blushing. "You obviously look like you're starving, yet you won't eat. You're _bleeding, _and you won't let me fix you. What the heck are you?"

_You won't let me fix you. _

The words echoed in his mind—could she really fix him? And then he almost laughed; the one who needed fixing wasn't him, it was her.

She looked like she was contemplating between leaving him there or staying by him, but he said nothing. He didn't even send her signals. A large part of him hoped she would just leave, but there was, as much as he hate to admit it, a piece of him that was hoping she'd stay.

And there it was again.

_Hope. _

He looked away, almost embarrassed as she knelt back beside him with an exaggerated sigh, and much closer this time. She was so warm, so soft looking and toasty that he almost …

He straightened suddenly. What was he _thinking? _Why was he even taking interest in her? She was the victim and he was the monster and yet he was still pursuing her. This was wrong. So completely totally wrong and yet …

And yet he found himself liking her.

* * *

a/n: And tada! Finally I've gotten somewhere. It felt like the last two chapters were filler-ish, so now I'm starting to get this story moving, hehe. Hoped you enjoyed this; I sure enjoyed writing this chapter. Especially the last part!

And as for the quote above, you do realize that it relates to the Ikuto and Amu near the end? I found it online and just thought _Oh, my this is perfect! _and decided to jam it in there. (btw, Ikuto's the criminal! I'm telling you this because if you've already read the first to this chapter, then you should know!)

So here's what we're talking about: more Utau, more Rima, more Amu, and more Ikuto! I wish I could've entered Kuukai and Nagihiko in the coffee house scene but I had no idea how, lol. So I decided to do a time-skip. And soon I'll be able to include as many characters as I can … Yaya, Kairi, maybe, Tadase, etc. I don't know yet. I may just leave the story centered around these six. :P

Oh, snap. Next chapter is all dark. Here's a preview (just to leave you on the edge of your seats!):

_He didn't want to burden her, no matter how much she might have suggested it wasn't one at all. But she didn't know him, and _he knew her_ and wasn't that the most dangerous of all? That he knew everything about her—from her favorite color to her family history, and she knew nothing about him? _

_Nothing made sense as he entered Easter Inc.'s building, gliding around the revolving doors and up the staircase to his father's office. He knew this place as well as he knew who his family was; there were marble floors, plush, green carpet, and glass windows that showed skyscrapers set out all across Tokyo. _

_Ikuto rounded the corner into the long hallway, and as he stared ahead, he saw the large doors with his stepfather's name printed on it: _Hoshina Kazuomi, CEO/Director.

_He opened them with a push, and his stepfather's silhouetted figure waited on the other side. As he turned, Ikuto's eyes transfixed to his open violin case on his desk and he nearly ran to catch it before the instrument fell against the floor, but the look on Kazuomi's face stopped him. _

"_Ikuto," he said, his voice soft and calm, but it had roughness to it. Ikuto watched as he picked up his violin up by the neck and held it high in the air. Kazuomi's gaze then turned to Ikuto's, a savage grin on his face. "I'm glad you showed up because ..." His eyes then returned to the fiddle gripped in his hand, and Ikuto watched in horror as his stepfather's fingers uncurled slowly._

"_I have another mission for you."_

_And he released the violin._

__**Anything mentioned in this excerpt could be subjected to change.**


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